


Don't run away from this

by Syrena_of_the_lake



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:35:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27862426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syrena_of_the_lake/pseuds/Syrena_of_the_lake
Summary: Amilyn Holdo had always loved puzzles – not just solving a mystery, but specifically fitting the pieces together, filling holes to make a whole. As the ship came apart around her, she held onto that feeling and the memories that came with it.
Relationships: Amilyn Holdo/Leia Organa/Han Solo
Comments: 5
Kudos: 8
Collections: Star Wars Rare Pairs 2020





	Don't run away from this

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EquusGirl (EquusGirl0621)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EquusGirl0621/gifts).



_“In the shambles of love, they kill only the best [...] Don’t run away from this dying.”  
_— Rumi _  
  
_

_I sing to a star  
_ _that shines on a far-flung globe  
_ _old beyond telling:_

_I loosen my robe  
_ _and bear my heart, scars and all  
_ _bold beyond telling_

_We three are as one  
_ _(and one and one and one  
_ _for everything made  
_ _can yet be undone)_

_Wherever you are,  
_ _I hope that your far-flung globe,  
_ _your hearts and your scars and all  
_ _uphold in the telling_

_I sing to the star  
_ _that knows when our tale is done  
_ _told beyond telling._

— Gatalentan poem 

* * *

First, there was light.

Jagged brightness.

Then, in the split instant between one breath and obliteration, Admiral Amilyn Holdo beheld her lifetime.

Had her thoughts, too, entered lightspeed? Or was this the same Force that suffused Leia, that swirled around Han (whether he liked it or not), that Amilyn had always gravitated towards — like a meteor to burning atmosphere and the overwhelming planetary body below?

Every choice was a star in the map that had led her here. Every memory burned. It was staggeringly beautiful. Between every particle of light, she _saw..._

* * *

Han had been prepared to dislike her, Amilyn could tell. He smiled readily enough when she boarded the _Falcon_ , but the skin tightened at the corners of his eyes, and his hand drifted a little too close to the unfaded patch on his trousers where his holster normally rested. She thought about asking him if she looked like a mutineer, but the answer probably would not be helpful.

At her side, Leia vibrated with impatience — and, Amilyn thought, with unhappiness. Amilyn understood. She too had always wanted her beloved ones to love each other, so they would have someone left to hold when she was gone.

So she merely dipped her head in greeting, called him “General Solo” in a grave voice that could not be mistaken for mockery, and complimented the elegance of the _Falcon’s_ wiring.

Han stared at her. “I’m in the middle of repairs,” he said, but defensiveness quickly gave way to bemusement when Amilyn clapped her hands in delight.

“I’ve always wanted to shunt a bypass to a power coupling. Will you show me how?”

“Is she serious?” Han demanded of Leia.

Leia laughed. “Leave me out of it,” she said, backing away. “You two want to muck around in the _Falcon’s_ innards, be my guest. Chewie and I will go plot our course to the rendezvous.”

Han looked at Amilyn. “ _Are_ you serious?”

She tilted her head, considering. “When potential electrocution is involved, yes.”

Han shrugged and handed her a macrofuser. “Good enough for me.”

Amilyn set to work cheerfully. She had always had a talent for closing circuits.

* * *

In those first, heady days after Endor, the _Falcon_ was a microcosm of the Rebellion: jubilant, cramped, shuddering, _home._

Lando was still on board, and Amilyn worried about him. It couldn’t be easy, carrying the weight of the Death Star on one’s shoulders. How many stormtroopers, mechanics, inquisitors and prisoners had vaporized with the explosion? They would probably never know. How many conflicting emotions burned within Lando now? Pride, relief, guilt... Amilyn would certainly never know, but she too had been a soldier. She knew them all.

Amilyn trusted Luke to see to Lando. Han helped too, in his way. The mantle of General had settled into his stance; he was steadier, graver, which Amilyn both appreciated and mourned. She had always had a weakness for cocky flyboys, and she rather missed the jaunty set of his shoulders. She wondered idly whether she carried herself differently these days as well, and if anyone missed the old Holdo.

But it was Leia who concerned her now.

For all the time they had always spent talking, Leia and Amilyn had never needed words between them when it came to how they felt.

Until now.

Since Endor, Leia had been closed to her. Amilyn had given her plenty of space — the whole forest, the whole moon even — but her legendary patience finally ran out. She cornered Leia in the gun well. Not the most auspicious beginning, but at least it was a beginning.

“The hydraulics are malfunctioning again,” Leia said by way of greeting. “Can you go grab some lubricant for me?”

“Lubricity, duplicity,” sang Amilyn.

Leia’s head shot up and struck the bottom of the gunner’s seat. “ _Kriff_.” She clutched her head and tears sprang to her eyes.

Amilyn settled herself at the top of the ladder, dangled her feet and made sympathetic noises. When she judged enough time had passed, she spoke. “That’s more emotion than you’ve shown since we left Endor.”

Leia looked up at her warily.

“You’re avoiding me, but not Han or Luke. Either the three of you have formed a triad and decided not to invite me, or you share a secret you’ve decided not to trust me with.” Amilyn tilted her head. “Normally I see more than two possibilities to every scenario, but you have me stumped.”

Leia winced. “I’m sorry I’ve hurt you, Amilyn. And it’s not what you think.”

“Oh, good!” Amilyn clasped her hands and leaned forward. “I was hoping there was a third possibility. Will you tell me?”

Uncharacteristically, Leia refused to meet her eyes. Her gaze skittered around the confines of the turret. “You know Luke is my brother.”

Amilyn waited.

“Darth Vader is... was... I mean, the man he used to be...” Leia held herself so stiffly that Amilyn was afraid she might break. “He was my father.”

Amilyn studied Leia’s hands, white-knuckled and trembling. “I can honestly say that is one possibility that never occurred to me.”

“Me neither.” Leia’s laugh was brittle.

“Do you think I will feel differently about you?” Amilyn tilted her head to look at Leia from a new angle.

“Why wouldn’t you? _I_ feel differently about me.”

“Hmm.” Amilyn cast her thoughts wide, hoping to dredge up the right words. “You have not changed as a person. The only thing that has changed is—”

As often happened when she was upset, Leia’s thoughts raced ahead and took a wrong turn. Amilyn could almost see the mental thrusters misfiring.

“I’m _Darth Vader’s daughter_ ,” she hissed. “I am dangerous.”

“Not to me,” Amilyn said firmly. She jumped down into the well, forcing Leia to unclench her hands to steady her.

“A part of Vader is inside me,” Leia said desperately. “How am I supposed to live with that?”

“It was always there,” Amilyn pointed out.

“Not helping,” Leia muttered.

Amilyn tried to string her thoughts into chords that would resonate with Leia. “If knowledge is power, then self-knowledge is self-control.” It wasn’t quite what she wanted to say, but she did not think Leia would react as well to the metaphor of the mushroom: kept in the dark and fed manure, it would only grow and spread its spores unchecked. (The second half of that analogy was a little shaky anyway — something about daylight and a patient gardener, or a hungry puffer pig — perhaps she would share it with Leia when the metaphor coalesced. Or perhaps not.)

“I don’t want to control it. I want to cut it out of me.” Leia’s voice was raw, ragged. As if her words were magma, as if every ejected syllable burned her throat.

Amilyn closed her eyes and thought of islands, cool waves of black rock underfoot.

“Then you may as well cut out the part of you that leads, that rebels, that loves... they are all dangerous, unfettered. I wonder which brought Vader to the Dark Side? Perhaps all three. We never know what burns inside someone else’s heart until they let us in.” With every word, Amilyn reeled Leia infinitesimally closer. She was close enough now to see the dark circles beneath hastily applied makeup. More telling still, she saw the clumsy, too-loose, reverse-woven braids under Leia’s cap.

“Han did your braids for you.”

Leia flushed. “My hands were shaking.”

“He will be good at that. I can tell.”

Leia’s lips parted. Amilyn waited.

“I wanted to tell you. I was afraid,” she admitted haltingly. “Afraid you would go back over everything I’ve ever said and done, looking for the rot lurking beneath the surface.”

Okay, she would definitely _not_ share the metaphor of the mushroom.

“Is that what you’ve been doing? Analyzing your actions on behalf of the Rebellion to see if you are secretly evil?” Amilyn hoped it would sound as absurd to Leia as it did to her. “Do you think Luke is evil?”

“Of course not!” An angry flush rose in Leia’s cheeks.

“Then why do you think you are?”

“I am angry, _so_ angry, all the time. Anger leads to the Dark Side, doesn’t it?” Leia slumped.

“I’m no Jedi,” said Amilyn, “but I am human. Last I checked, humans felt emotions. If righteous anger over Alderaan is evil, then so am I. If lashing out in pain against a father’s betrayal is evil, then so is your brother. If snapping at someone in irritation is evil, then so is Han... and even Artoo, for that matter. I don’t believe any of those things are true. Neither do you, not really. Leia, look at me.”

Amilyn ducked her head to meet Leia’s eyes. “If you don’t trust yourself, then trust me. Trust Han. Trust Luke. Do not invalidate the people who love you.”

Leia’s eyes widened.

Amilyn gazed back steadily. “You already know I love you. Do me the courtesy of not denying it.”

Leia shook her head. “Somehow I’ve always known,” she murmured. Amilyn had never seen that particular expression on Leia’s face before: arrested, like the artificial calm after a shock wave.

She was not left to wonder for long: with a shuddering gasp, Leia bridged the last minuscule distance between them. The kiss, so long in the making, was like skyfaring: soft silk and iron control slipping through Amilyn’s hands as she plummeted and swung in ever-widening, dizzying parabolas. She wondered what metaphor Leia might assign to it: the thrill of a speeder chase, or the echo of a homecoming she could never have?

“Han will have to fix your hair.” Amilyn threaded her fingers through Leia’s hair, untangling the remnants of unraveled braids.

“Han... ” Leia bit her lip. “Amilyn, I don’t want to have to choose between you.”

“So don’t choose. You’ve lost enough.” Amilyn clasped her hands around Leia’s. “Just promise me you won’t run away from this.”

Leia lifted her head. “I never run away from anything.”

* * *

“You want to do what?” To his credit, Han’s voice didn’t raise in volume, but it may have cracked a little.

Under other circumstances, Amilyn might have laughed. But she needed Han, because Leia needed Han. And this wouldn’t be easy for him — for someone who grew up with no one and nothing, who hardly knew how to share his feelings, let alone a whole person — and Amilyn would not make it harder for all the Corusca gems in the Core.

Leia flushed and muttered something inaudible. Clearly, this wasn’t easy for her either.

Amilyn decided to take charge. “You love Leia,” she announced, holding up one slender finger. “I love Leia.” Another finger. “Leia loves us both.” The third finger. She waggled all three. “We can be a three-legged stool, strong and steady, where two alone would only fall over.”

“Stool,” repeated Han.

Leia put her face in her hands.

“And you’re okay with this?” Han looked to Leia first, of course, but then also to Amilyn. That was promising.

“I’m flexible,” she answered, and tucked one leg behind her head to prove it.

Leia’s shoulders shook.

“And you and me. Uh.” Han rubbed the back of his neck. “How would that work?”

“I should hope we’d be friends.” Amilyn resumed a more conventional sitting position. “Anything more will come with time, or not.”

Han stared past her for a long moment. Amilyn wondered if he was looking at the blaster scar in the panel over her left shoulder. She wondered who put it there, and what memory Han attached to it. It was easy to see why Leia loved him. For Amilyn, it was even easier to see how the three of them fit together like a Togorian triptych circuit-puzzle, each filling a hole in the other and completing the circuit and bringing the tryptich to light and life. She could almost _feel_ the edges around her own holes. She knew the ones Leia filled by heart — she had known for years, since their pathfinding classes. The other holes, the ones that Han could fill... well, their borders were fuzzy still, but she could sense their outlines: the freedom of the stars, the ache of not seeing the universe the same way as everyone else, the itch to _go_ and _do_ and _be_ , the longing to thrust oneself off a cliff just to feel the wind... the little pains that came with leaving, over and over again, a place or a person who had become dear. The hunger-fear- _need_ to never leave anyone again, and the wrench of letting them go anyway.

 _If you’re going to leave_ , thought Amilyn, _leave a mark._

Her eyes met Han’s. “Every scar on this ship tells a story, doesn’t it?”

Leia frowned at the change in topic. “Give him a chance to think,” she scolded Amilyn lightly. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“It’s fine,” said Han. He brushed off his pants and stood. “I think we understand each other.”

“Aren’t you going to tell me not to scratch your ship?” Amilyn traced the outline of the blaster burn.

Han walked over, took her hand and tugged her to her feet. “Nope,” he said.

“I don’t know what you two are talking about,” said Leia.

“Probably not,” agreed Han. “So. Where to, ladies?”

Amilyn smiled until her cheeks hurt. “ _Anywhere_.”

* * *

First, there was light.

A searing rip in the black fabric of space.

Then, darkness illumined by sparks, pinpricks of fire snuffed out in the vacuum. An afterimage more fleeting than memory.

Then, between the shock and the waves that followed it, Amilyn felt as if she had become her own universe: expanding ever outward in a rush of cosmic force.

Then, she _was_ the light.

She had been so worried about leaving Leia alone, without Han, and now without her. She should have remembered: all things were one in the Force.

* * *

Once more aboard the _Falcon_ , Leia reached for the Force and its tendrils of reassurance, gripping them as tightly as she did Rey’s hand.

So much loss. So much grief. Yet, where there was light, there was hope... and somewhere, twin suns still blazed.

Somehow, Leia found the strength to smile at her new apprentice. “We have everything we need,” she promised.


End file.
